


Bingo Board Bonanza

by OwlEspresso



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff, Master/Pet, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multi, Orgasm Denial, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Somnophilia, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, chase kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlEspresso/pseuds/OwlEspresso
Summary: Fragments and pieces, drabbles and one-shots, from fluff to explicit smut.Done for @finalfantasyxivwritings's Bingo Board challenge on tumblr.
Relationships: Ardbert (Final Fantasy XIV)/Reader, Ardbert/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Artoirel de Fortemps/Warrior of Light, Asahi sas Brutus/Reader, Haurchefant Greystone/Reader, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Hien Rijin/Reader, Hien Rijin/Warrior of Light, Meteor/Reader, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Reader, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light, Urianger Augurelt/Warrior of Light, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light/Reader, Zenos yae Galvus/Reader, Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Comments: 8
Kudos: 360





	1. Haurchefant / "Please use me."

“Please use me,” the strands of Haurchefant’s hair gleamed silver underneath the pale moonlight, painting a picture so beautiful it hurt to look at. His gaze swam with ardent passion, his voice a desperate plea. He looked up at you through the hoarfrost of his eyelashes, one large hand perched on your knee, the other grasping your own, bringing it to those soft lips.

“Haurchefant,” you uttered his name, and swallowed at the sight of the bulge in his pants, cock already straining the cotton confines, “I don’t want to use you. You deserve better than that.”

“Perhaps,” he pulled your hand to his cheek, nestled into the palm, “But please, do not assume that I do not want to be used by you. Long have I thought that serving Ishgard was my life’s calling, but ever since you stepped into the picture I have begin… doubting that.”

He pressed a series of kisses to your fingers. Your eyes widened, cheeks burned at the unabashed display of affection. You had always assumed Haurchefant would be a devout lover, yet somehow never expected him to make a move this bold. Perhaps you had underestimated his attraction, perhaps you had convinced herself that his longing glances and borderline sultry praises were merely friendly or teasing. 

Perhaps you had been afraid to entertain the thought of someone being interested in her.

“It would be an honor to be used by you. Nothing would bring me greater joy,” he purred, batting his eyelashes, a mischievous smile curling onto his lips as he observed your sheepishness, “For any purpose you’d like. Pretend I’m simply a sword or spear, or a mere tool in your alchemy set.”

“Haurchefant,” you pressed your free hand to your forehead, curling in on yourself.

“Yes?” the hand on your knee gave a gentle squeeze.

“I’m—I don’t know what to say about all this,” you stammered, “I’m a bit blown away, to be honest. It’s just, I never thought you’d feel this way—”

“Have I not made my admiration clear enough?” he sounded thoroughly gobsmacked, “Allow me to remedy that as soon as possible. I’ll shout it from the top of our highest watch tower tomorrow. Not a single knight will be oblivious to your charitable, sanctimonious deeds!”

“And I’ve never been in a relationship, before! I don’t even know what to do,” you interrupted, hoping to distract him from that terrible idea. If he sang your praises to the entire camp, you’d never be able to show your face around here ever again. You’d have to wear a mask whenever in Coerthas, go into hiding, oh gods why was he like this? And why did you love it so much?

“Well,” he said, all playfulness gone from his voice. You managed to lift your gaze, watching as he leaned forward to press a small kiss to your knee, “I believe I’ve pushed us to this point,” he rubbed his cheek against you, eyes shut, expression awed and affectionate all in one. 

“You don’t have to worry about a single thing. Just let me do the rest of the work.”


	2. Emet-Selch / Discussion of Sex Life

“Surely the noble and vaunted Warrior of Light has plenty of prospective partners lined up outside her door?” Emet-Selch lounged languidly in the arm chair across the room, cheek rested on the palm of his hand. The lamplight illuminated dark, glossy strands of hair, painted his high cheekbones apart from the rest of his face.

“You’ve made it clear that you don’t think of any of us as actual people, but somehow that is the worst thing you’ve ever said to me,” she looked up from the brewing concoction, expression twisting with disgust, “What are you even talking about?”

“Were we not discussing romance mere moments ago?” he tipped his head, an eyebrow raised as though she was the crazy one here.

“We were discussing alchemy and chemistry. Then you decided to bring in personal chemistry and I stopped listening until now,” she looked back to her work, movements more rigid than before. Her eyebrows set into a firm scowl, working her damned hardest to not get riled up by this petulant asshole and his needless array of skirts.

“Forgive me, but I found that terribly drawl. I’m much more interested in the slew of men undoubtedly lined up outside your door. Love is a kind of chemistry, after all,” he began, languid smile becoming a keen smirk. His eyes narrowed, golden irises hyperfocusing on her, “Tell me, are you as shy in bed as you are in everyday conversation?” his voice dropped low and her face burned. Her gaze glued onto the bubbling, blue fluid in the tube, gloved hands clenched into fists.

“Tell me,” a solid warmth was suddenly pressed against her back. His breath ghosted over her furred ear, his spot on the armchair suddenly empty. Her canines bit tight into her lip, spine ramrod straight as she barely withheld a shiver, “Are you a good girl for your paramours?” his hands found home on her hips, his face pressing to the crook of her neck, “...Would you be a good girl for me?”

She shakily reached for the burner in front of her and switched it off. The flame died like her soul did every time he managed to wrangle her into one of these godforsaken interactions.

She debated whether elbowing him would be worth it. Outrage steeped with deep arousal fried her brain, making it terribly difficult to think. He loomed over her, the laughable difference in height only making the throbbing between her legs worse. 

His thumbs began to rub in circles, and that pushed her into action.

She slammed her elbow into his side… only for it to meet blank space. He’d disappeared.

“Pretend if it makes you feel better, but I know you feel this attraction as much as I,” just as quickly, he loomed in front of her, only separated by her work table. He planted his hands on the surface and leaned forward, golden eyes ablaze with hunger, “I refuse to rush you like some unkempt ruffian, but know that when you come to your senses…”

“I’ll take very good care of you.”


	3. Zenos / Predator + Prey

Your breath dragged in and out of your lungs, cheeks flushed, sweaty bangs stuck to your forehead. Your legs ached with each step, twigs and leaves crushed into the mud underneath your sturdy boots. 

Fuck, fuck fuck—Just my goddamn luck!

The bottles that hung on your belt clacked together, the noise deafening against the night’s quiet. Hardly a creature stirred, only the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of something smaller through the brush. You crashed through shrubs and bushes, the breath knocked out of you time and time again as though the day’s battle hadn’t injured you enough.

The assignment had been more difficult than you anticipated. It’d taken until sundown to subdue the beast—

“Surely, you know you can’t outrun me on those short legs?”

Only to have another show up.

Why was he even here? You wracked your brain for any possible answer, but fatigue robbed you of room to think. All you knew was that someone who could easily overpower and kill you was on your tail, and all that mattered was getting away. Far away, as far as possible. There was no way to win, not unless seventeen or more of your allies suddenly leaped from the brush, ready to defend you.

Not that you would have wanted that, anyways. You were tired of people dying for your sake.

Anguish twisted inside of you at your carelessness. This could have easily been avoided had you taken the proper precautions, perhaps asked for assistance.

Your stomach jumped to your throat, heart beating in your ears, lungs burning with each labored breath.

Where was the treeline? The town? Where had your sense of direction gone? The world seemed to spin around her, black spots gathering at the edges of her vision.

You spotted a flash of steel from the corner of your eye before an immense weight slammed into your knocking you to the forest floor. A scream wrenched from your throat as you writhed and flailed. Your nails made contact with yielding flesh.

Massive hands closed around both wrists, pinning them next to your head. Your eyes, glazed and wide and feral stared into enthralled blue. His hair, illuminated silver by the moonlight, framed his face in a thick curtain.

“At last,” Zenos Yae Galvus sighed, “I had hoped we could reunite under more… amicable conditions, but I won’t complain about the thrill of the chase.”

“What are you doing here? What do you want?” your voice was a pathetic rasp, chest heaving with heavy pants.

“That much should be obvious: to cross blades with you once again, to feel alive. It’s been too long, my beast. After I reclaimed my body from the miscreant piloting it, I heard you had moved onto greener pastures, larger game,” he purred, one of his knees nestled in between your own. Your legs instinctually parted, a strange kind of warmth curling in your lower stomach, “So imagine my surprise when sightings of you were reported so close to the Garlean border.”

“You… you just want to fight again?” you stared up at him, utterly dumbfounded, “Can’t it wait?”

“You don’t seem fit for it at the moment, so it seems it will have to,” he murmured, freeing one of your hands.

His warm fingers brushed against your cheek, thumb wiping away a spare speck of dirt. He touched you with a gentility you didn’t know he was capable of, as though he was soothing a scared, wild animal.

Which was perhaps a fitting metaphor for his true opinion of you. 

Yet, his gaze burned with reference, making your thighs rub together. Why did he look at you like that? Like you were something to be kept and treasured? Never had one of your enemies behaved like this. It was perplexing, frightening even.

“Come, then,” he gave you little to no warning before he stood, heaving you into his arms. You gave a surprised cry, the forest scenery passing by in a blur. How had this happened? In what reality was this a plausible situation? Why was your sworn enemy, the prince of the Garlean empire himself, carrying you like a treasured bride?

You stared up at the canopy, dumbfounded as he held you to his chest. Alarm caused your heart to jackhammer.

“Hold on!” you protested, writhing in his arms, “Where are you taking me!?”

“Still so eager for battle, even in this pitiful state,” he amused as you smacked his chest. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, eventually falling limp to your sides. Though he’d discarded his bulky armor and replaced it with lighter fare, it still felt as though you were hitting a brick wall, “Where did you make camp?”

“There’s,” you wheezed, falling back into his grip, thoroughly tuckered out. Your wounds stung, muscles aching with each agonized breath, “A town to the east, and I—I can’t even tell where east is anymore,” you admitted.

“I know which one you’re talking about,” he assured you, beginning to stride away, “I’ll find someone to tend to your injuries. For now, rest,” one of his hands reached to cradle your head to his chest, the center of his glove cool against your cheek.

You fought the oncoming waves of fatigue with all your might, but even the desperation that came with being defenseless in the arms of an enemy failed in the face of sleep deprivation.


	4. Ardbert, Meteor / Threesome

“Aaardbert,” your voice trembled into the narrow space between your bodies.

“He’s not the one fucking you right now,” Meteor gently corrected. The backside of your knee was nestled atop the crook of his elbow, legs held open, cunt exposed for his thick cock to plow in and out of. You struggled to keep your eyes open, waves of pleasure numbing you every sense.

“But I’m right you, love,” Ardbert practically purred, laid in front of you. He perched open an elbow, the stretch of his immaculate body available for you viewing pleasure. His stiff cock rested against his lower abdomen, making your mouth water. He resembled an ancient sculpture, near unearthly in his beauty, “Don’t be too hard on her, though,” he redirected his attention to Meteor, “You’re fucking her so hard she has nary a moment to think.”

His large hand groped your hefty breast, calloused palm grating against your nipple in a way that made your back arch, eyes shut, fingers reaching to curl around a thick bicep.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, “Oh, fuck—Meteor—” 

His name died on your lips as Ardbert shifted closer, the smooth ease of the movement not unlike a wolf weaving through tall foliage, eyes on its next prey. A large hand cupped your jaw, his lips pressing tight to yours. His tongue slid inside immediately, wasting no time in exploring every part of your mouth. Your tongues brushed together, a simple and savage dance he completely led. He swallowed your sighs and cries, treasuring each carnal noise.

You were utterly trapped, nestled between two fine walls of muscle. Each slap of Meteor’s hips served as a reminder of his unyielding strength.

“Feels good, right?” Ardbert panted as you separated, eyes half-lidded, expression utterly consumed by hunger. His pupils rendered his irises slim, brown rings.

“Yeah,” was all you could manage in between labored breaths and moans, a shaking hand retreating south, even as Meteor continued to jostle your body. Your hips squirmed, trying to feebly roll back into him. Your sore thighs screamed in protest, doubtlessly smattered purple and red by their vicious, greedy mouths. Your hips bruised where they’d clutched you so tightly.

Ardbert’s hand closed firmly around your wrist before you could reach your throbbing clit, pinning it to the youets.

“Ardbert!” you practically sobbed in protest, voice pitching up to a humiliating whine.

“It’s alright,” he soothed before you could begin to wriggle. His lips danced along your jawline and neck, over hickies and marks their hands had left. 

His stubble grated against the crook of your neck whilst he shoved the calloused pads of his fingers up against the warm bundle of nerves, paying it merciless attention.

At once, you fell to pieces, cumming over cock and nimble digits. The frantic pulsating of your cunt brought your lover with you. Meteor bit harsh into your shoulder as he spilled inside. 

You fell limp against the blankets, given not a moment of rest before Meteor pulled out, making you wince at the sudden emptiness. Fuck, that part never got any easier. 

Their release spilled over your thigh and onto the mattress, your already warm face burning at the sight.

He placed your leg down to leave them spread wide open, forcing you onto your back. Your gaze drifted up to the ceiling, attempting to get your jumbled mess of a brain into something coherent. The ceiling fan whirred lazily above the bed, slicing through the stuffy air.

Your tail idly thumped against the mattress, chest heaving with each labored pant.

The mattress creaked as Meteor shifted to sit up, the sudden movement grabbing your attention.

“How are you feeling?” Ardbert inquired from your side, one of his hands rested atop your stomach, “Need anything? Some water? A massage?”

“‘M okay. I just… can’t think straight. What day is it?”

“Tuesday,” Meteor replied. He’d come to settle near the end of the bed, staring between your thighs. The only way to aptly describe his expression was transfixed. His gaze flickered up, cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink when he realized he’d been caught staring, “There’s just… so much,” he explained, gesturing at the growing mess between your legs.

“And I hope you won’t mind if I add to the pile?” Ardbert’s teasing inquiry made your stomach squirm with dread and arousal, still sensitive from your orgasm. The warmth in his gaze was simply too steep, too immense to be human language. So extensive that it stole your voice as he lifted from his lounging position to crawl in between your legs, cock tall and proud against his stomach, “Just relax and enjoy. I’ll do all the work.”

It was going to be a long night.


	5. Aymeric / Sleepy Sex

The plush of the comforters was the first thing you registered, the second being the puffs of warm air against your collarbone. It took you only a few moments to recall where you were, nestled in the arms of your lover, safe in the hallowed halls of his grand estate.

“Aymeric,” you murmured, fingers curling through silken soft strands. Lips pressed eager kisses of your chest, a hand rising to cup a breast. The haze of sleep lifted ever so slightly as you brushed his bangs away from his face, heart softening at the sight of his haunted expression.

“Mine apologies,” velvet voice crackling against your skin. He pressed his face to your chest.

Even though you could not see it, you knew his eyes were dewey with tears, knew that his worst memories had resurfaced under the cloak of sleep. During times like these, getting lost in the warmth of your body and affection soothed him the most. His long fingers found purchase against your warm curves and rolls.

“S’ okay,” the words felt like they came through a haze, unconsciousness beginning to tug you back under. You dipped further into sleep whilst his cock nudged against your rapidly moistening folds. 

You turned your head to press your nose into one of the blankets, both your scents so divinely mixed together, steeping you deeper in bliss as his lips curled around a peaked nipple. Her noises were barely muffled, back weakly arching.

“I love you,” he said, fingers dragging along your weeping slit, “So much more than words could ever describe,” he professed, face pressing against your stomach, wetting patches of your skin with tears.

He plowed into your docile body with his nimble fingers, cock feasting on your honeysuckle sweetness in hopes it would void his brain from the pain. Your body went soft with sleep, giving way to him easily, betwixt your quiet moans and the slow curl of your fingers into the duvet.


	6. Estinien / Breeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of a reader insert, this chapter uses Milkweed, my miqo'te WOL.

The mattress creaked under his weight as he shuffled forward, his eyes alight with but lost to sheer carnality. Milkweed willed her breathing to calm as they came chest-to-chest. He was like a furnace, warmth radiating from every part of him, banishing the blasted Ishgardian chill from the room.

The dim lamplight caught on the patches of black scales that littered his body.

“Estinien,” she breathed, voice trembling as he straddled her. Her petite hands curled into the blankets, back pressed tight to the mattress, “Estinien, we—”

He gave her little time to think or speak before their lips met. It wasn’t a loving, slow osculation as much as a reckless, fervent press of his tongue into her mouth. Her eyes shut tight, going limp as he took his fill. She sighed, squealing when clawed fingers grasped her pliant hips.

“‘Stinien,” she tried again when the need for air pulled apart. Her senses blurred as hunger pulled at her nerves, body singing with each craven touch he gave.

“Mm?” he groused, mouthing at the edge of her bare skin, sucking a dark mark before venturing down to her neck. He worked to claim as many patches of unblemished flesh as he could reach, driven near mad with the desire to mark.

He made it difficult to think—let alone speak. It was an uphill battle to cling to coherency, but she didn’t have to.

“Do you want to stop?” he inquired, hot breath brushing over her plush breast, flicking that blasted, forked tongue over her nipple. Her back arched, whimper upon whimper pried from her vulnerable throat, “Are you scared?” he pressed his cheek above her heart, shutting his eyes and savoring in the frantic thump, thump, thump of it. Warm, calloused palms grasped her thighs and urged them around his waist.

No, she wanted to say.

“Maybe,” she said as though it pained her, “...A little.”

“There’s no need to be,” he snorted, delivering a harsh bite to the underside of her breast, “You’ll be a good mother to our children. You’ll look beautiful whilst you carry them. A better person could not have been chosen to carry my seed,” his voice ended with the barest hint of a growl, a hand grasping her untouched breast and squeezing.

The fat tip of his cock pressed against her folds and her eyes widened, grasping desperately at his shoulders as he began the unforgiving push inside.

He leaned over, pressing their bodies flush together. The noises of pleasure became moans and whimpers of pain as she struggled to accommodate him. Even while properly lubricated, it would be a struggle. 

It was his own fault, he supposed, pressing kisses to her chest. Their dramatic difference in size made them a bit ill-suited when it came to coupling.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, sighing as he felt her shift in a vain attempt to speed up the adjustment. She squeezed blessedly around him, testing his restraint with each fluttering pulse. Low chuffing noises rumbled deep from his scaled throat, even the beast in him seeking to soothe her.

Her body eventually acquiesced to him. Her breathing began to even, much to his relief.

“Good?” he asked in a coarse whisper. A small smile broke across his lips as she nodded. His hips slowly drew back, beginning a lax pace. 

The dragon inside of him, the greedy and terrible creature, demanded faster, harder, salivating at the sight of her glazed eyes and parted lips. Her hands trembled as they clung tight to his shoulders.

Take, take, take, it hissed and he groaned aloud, all but melting as he fucked her into the veritable sea of blankets.

“Mine,” he gasped, teeth at her neck. His eyes struggled to stay open, helpless to resist the welcoming tug of her small body, delightfully soft and hot around his throbbing cock, “All mine.”

Mine to fuck, to keep—  
To spill seed into—

Her nails raked across his pale skin, pain and pleasure marrying within his lower stomach, making his every nerve sing and scream with audacious pleasure.

Spill, the dragon seethed.  
Breed, breed, breed, it cooed.

Her hips feebly began to roll to meet his own, thrown down by the lean strength behind each thrust and flex.

The predator in him delighted in it, in the way she squirmed and struggled to reciprocate.

“Estinien,” she damn near wailed as he took the tip of her ear between his teeth. 

Her words became veritable nonsense as he grasped her tight, lifting her entire body by the hips to meet him. The training wheels had been eased off of her in a mere moment. Each plunge back into her velvet brought him closer and closer to elation.

They came together.

She gave full open sobs as she shook. The dim lamp light made her tear-streaked cheeks glisten, a sight he savored like a treasure horde.

He muffled a snarl against her collarbone, painting her plush walls with his release. He fucked her through it until she was boneless and incoherent and pushing at his chest.

“Seven hells,” she swore, voice pitched high in near agony. Her chest rose and fell as she attempted to catch her breath, blissed out and exhausted.

Estinien grunted against her chest in affirmation, sweat-slicked bangs stuck to his forehead. He all but collapsed atop of her, earning a surprised squeal as he squished her. His face pressed into her warm skin, pressing idle kisses to her breasts. The angry, red marks he’d left all over her neck were beginning to burgeon into bruises, ones that would remain for hopefully a few days.

“How are you feeling?” one of his clawed hands reached to caress her face, the tips of his nails brushing over her warm skin. His fervent gaze softened as he beheld her rumpled state.

“Dead,” she answered, eyes closed.

“Mmm, rest,” he said, “Halone knows you’ll need it,” his calloused hands braced against the mattress, softened cock slipping from her sweet cunt, “I’ll wake you later.”

For another round, he meant, but left it unsaid.


	7. Ardbert / Orgasm Denial

“Fuck!” Ardbert nearly howls as your hand lifts from his weeping cock. His hips roll off the bed, pitifully seeking out his release to no avail. He’s been good thus far, you’ll give him that. His arms have remained at his sides, no matter how much they twitch, no matter how his hands keep curling into fists. His cheeks are flushed deep red, lips parted around moans and gasps.

His eyes are shimmering. Tears, you realize, with mixed pity and delight. They bead at the corners of his eyes and roll down his cheeks. 

“You’ve been so good for me,” you coo, and he gives a pathetic, choked laugh.

“If only you’d reciprocate and let me cum, for twelve’s bloody sake,” he grumbles, but there’s no real bite to it. He loves this as much as you do, relishes in the power you lord over him, the release you just barely keep out of his grasp.

“Soon,” you promise, setting your hand on his cock again. Your palms are slicked with lubricant and precum, allowing you to easily settle into a quick pace that has him arching off the sheets. His fingers curl into the bedding, head lolling back, eyes shutting as you pry cry after cry from his bruised lips. The broad muscles of his abdomen twist and flex with each heavy breath. 

It doesn’t take long to work him back up to his peak. It’s been withheld from him three times, maybe? You honestly stopped counting, too taken by him to bother going over the numbers. 

He curses as he nears orgasm, writhing atop the veritable mess of sheets. He’s beautiful all the time, but especially when he’s like this, wrung out and pushed to his very limit. Bruises bloom along his sharp collarbone, bite marks settled over the lovely V of his hips.

You let go of his cock, preparing for another onslaught of whines and curses.

You’re given not even a second before you’re tossed to the mattress. It bounces slightly underneath you from the pure impact. After enduring so much torment, he’s clearly grown tired of letting you set the pace. His face is not an inch away, expression feral. 

His irises are slender ring around blown wide pupils.

He had leaped from his splayed out position with the swiftness and strength only a seasoned warrior could possess. Too quick for you to register in your overconfidence. 

There’s not a moment to argue, not a moment to make another suggestion, and somehow you can’t find it in you to care. The tip of his cock pressed against your sopping folds. You hiss, eyebrows nettling into a firm scowl.

Though any indignance you might have felt vanishes as he slides inside, your walls easily stretching to accommodate his size. The ache is pleasant, the sight of him dipping in and out of you rendering you dizzy, unable to think let alone speak as he set a violent, vicious pace. The mattress screamed in protest.

Your coherency melted into aimless oblivion as he fucked you into the mattress. One hand maintained a bruising grip on your hip, the other curling into the blankets. 

“Ardbert!” you cried, because it's quickly become impossible to say anything else. Your hands grasped for his shoulders, desperate for some sort of purchase in the sea of pleasure that’d suddenly swept you under, “Ardbert, oh fuck—”

A low growl rumbled in his throat and his head leaned down, nuzzling his cheek against yours. It softened and enraged you all at the same time. How could someone so inundated with power be so cute!? 

It made it near impossible to be mad at him when he withdrew from the confines of your silken heat, sliding down the mattress to get face-level with your cunt.

“What are you—” you cut yourself off with a cry as his arms curled around your thighs, lavishing your folds in attention. You stared hopelessly up at the ceiling, already fucked silly and simply befuddled at how you’d landed in this position. 

...Before the sweep of his tongue over your clit robbed you of all thought, sending you tumbling into an abyss of pleasure.


	8. Artoirel / Petplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This features my WOL instead of a reader insert. I hope you can all enjoy it !

The collar pulled taught around her neck. Milkweed gave a muffled curse, following the leash’s lead without complaint. Her black heels clacked noisily against the hard floor, and it was a struggle to not outright stumble into Artoirel’s lap as he beckoned her over. The smile on his face was much too fond (and only, purely fond) for her current state.

“Stop tugging so hard,” she hissed, bracing her small hands against his knees. As disgruntled as she tried to seem, she kneeled before him with no protest. The material of her stockings stretched tight around her knees as they bent.

“Obey my commands with proper haste, next time,” he said, a hand reaching down to grasp her chin, forcing her to look into greedy, azure eyes. There was no hiding the way in which his gaze swept over her plump chest, so lovingly held by a flimsy bra. Its lace brushed against her skin, irritating, but she struggled to offer a complaint when Haurchefant presented it to her, smiling from ear-to-ear.

“Mmm,” arguing with him clearly wouldn’t help relieve the growing ache between her legs, so she settled for resting her cheek to his inner knee.

“To think, you were so… argumentative when we first started,” Artoirel remarked, long fingers stroking along her jaw, “You’ve blossomed into such an obedient pet, compared to then. I’m proud of you,” his thumb pressed to her bottom lip, his other hand reaching to comb through her hair.

He was petting her, she realized with a start, but leaned into his hand regardless. A steady purr began to rumble in her chest, though cut off by a short gasp when he pinched the tip of her ear between his index finger and thumb. Her tail lashed behind her, agitation beginning to well and slosh through her red hot veins—

“Though,” he began. His fingers dipped into her mouth. Her eyes shut, tongue rasping and stroking over the nimble digits. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on them, “The last time I checked, pets didn’t have such advanced vernacular.”

Her breath hitched as he pressed harder upon the tip of her ear, tugging on it gently. 

Her eyes opened, beholding the pink that newly dusted his cheeks. His pupils dilated and a tent pressed tight against his trousers, betraying his steady composure.

“I suppose I can compromise. Until we’re finished, I’ll only permit you to say my name. Go ahead. Say it for me,” he pulled his fingers out of her mouth and patted her on the head, as though praising her for a job well done.

“A-Artoirel,” her lips trembled around the consonants and syllables. The thin fabric of her panties pressed uncomfortably tight to her wet cunt. Her tail flailed impatiently against the plush carpet, for an entirely different reason.

His eyes crinkled with a fond smile.

“Good girl.”


	9. Asahi / Hate Sex

In the middle of the night, you meet him. Among the rolling hills, under the shade of a verdant grove’s trees, in the back alleys of the Doman Enclave. You meet him with greedy hands grasping, fingers curling into the thick fabric of his uniform, wrenching the buttons apart. He snarls when you ruin his perfectly ironed jacket, seethes with anger as you settle for each other.

His teeth grate against the side of your neck, leaving mark after shameless mark over previously unblemished skin.

It’s a vicious dance, one cannot help but revisit. Twice a month, twice a week, these horribly passionate encounters. You can’t breathe without him, but not with him. Pleasure sears your nerves as your bodies intertwine. There’s pain in knowing this is nothing. There are no feelings when he pins you with his cock, fucks you ceaselessly into the mattress, the brick wall, the green grass.

There’s nothing. This is nothing. 

“Are you really in love with Zenos?” you ask, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Your back is pressed into the grass, clothes strewn in a messy pile only a few feet away from your bodies.

“Why? Are you jealous?” Asahi, awful creature that he is, sneers, “Do you long to be the apple of my eye for longer than the few minutes I can give you?”

“No,” you bark out a laugh, “I just think it’s interesting.”

His eyebrows quirk into a slight scowl. Though, to his credit, he retains his composure, that lofty haughtiness that gets under your clothes, your skin. He’s seated upright, perhaps for the sole purpose of looking down at you.

“And what about my unyielding loyalty is so interesting?” his voice winds and tenses. As talented an actor as he is, there’s little he can do to hide his feelings about his precious lord. Especially around you. You, one of the precious few to see passed the sickenly polite guise he’s forced to constantly maintain. You, who he doesn’t have to pretend around.

When in your company, he is free to indulge in his real self. There’s no hiding behind a cordial mask when you’re clenched so beautifully around his cock.

“I mean, his empire did subjugate your homeland,” you point out wryly, “Tell me—and this is an honest question. I don’t mean to mock you… Do you ever think he’ll return your feelings?” as you speak, you shove him to his back, straddle him so deftly that he has little time to react. His eyes are owlish, hair a mess, black strands sticking out in every direction. The shade you’d taken shelter under had done little to cool him down. 

His chest was still hot to the touch, face flushed precious pink as you groped him, mapped him out like he’d done to you moments prior.

“I don’t owe you insight into my relationship,” he gasps. Any force he could have put behind his words is thoroughly thwarted by the tremble of his voice. His palms pressed to your thighs, scraping tight against your skin, “This is—ah!” he throws his head back and cooes. The tip of his cock presses snuggly to your moist folds, “Just an unfortunate habit.”


	10. Haurchefant / Semi-Public

“Haurchefant,” Milkweed said through gritted teeth, attempting to peer over the edge of the elezen’s thick cloak. 

“Mmm?” he buried his face in the crook of her neck, cold nose pressed to her bare skin. She flinched, wiggling in his hold, hands perching atop his arms which rested over her waist, holding her to his front, “Something amiss, my lady?”

“You know very well that something is amiss,” she groused. His face lifted from her neck, chin perching atop her head. It’d been only five minutes since she’d nestled underneath his cloak at his insistence, and already he’d started mischief. She could very well feel the outline of his cock pressed to her bottom.

“I’m afraid I’ve not the slightest clue what you’re referring to. Care to shed some light on this incredible mystery for this poor fool, my love?” he teased. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her hair, simultaneously treating her to a slight roll of his hips. She gasped into the fabric, smothering a moan as one of his hands inched in between her legs, undoing her trouser’s buttons.

“Really? Right here? Right now?” her breath hitched as his fingers found home, pressed snuggly against her clothed cunt. A shiver rolled down as he so diligently teased, her cheeks awash with amaranthine. She ducked her face down, hiding her flushed complexion, scooting further into the cage of his arms.

“Forgive me,” his voice dipped into a sultry coo, one of his large hands palming her breast. “I can’t help but find you most… irresistible. May the heavens strike me down for my lapse in control,” he waxed poetic, lips brushing against her ear as his hips rolled a second time, raising her ever so slightly in his lap for a moment. 

She bit her lip in a feeble attempt to smother a moan, eyes shutting. 

“There are other people not ten fulms away,” she snapped, reaching her elbow back to halfheartedly prod into his side. 

“I beg for your forgiveness,” he said, giving her breast an affectionate squeeze. “Take pity upon this halfwitted, brainless fool, who can think of nothing and no one but you,” the pure ridiculousness of his statement makes her giggle, the joyful noise cut off by a gasp when he rolled his bastardly hips a second time. Her eyebrows nettled together and she flopped backwards, resting her head against his shoulder.

Her breaths grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment, her mind racing as his fingers finally nudged her panties aside. The calloused pads of his fingers rolled over her clit, worshipping the bundle of nerves with meticulous amounts of attention.

She shut her eyes, smothering gasps into the fine fabric of his cloak. Each heavy inhale she took only inundated her senses with his scent, warm cloves and his cologne.

“You’ll make this up to me later,” she said. Her voice trembled, thoroughly thwarting any attempt at sternness.

“We’ll get you all the pastries you want,” he purred, index finger teasing at her soaked entrance. “And they’ll be almost as sweet as you.”


	11. Urianger / Gentle Sex

“Twelve above,” Urianger’s eyebrows nestled together, lips parted around a soft sigh. The sun’s dying light stretched in through the curtain’s thin opening. His spindly fingers combed through her thick locks, lips dancing along her jaw, as light as the beat of a butterfly’s wings. Their bodies intermingled, limbs pressing together in a clumsy balter.

“Urianger." her small hands perched atop of and caressed his broad shoulders, treating each fine muscle with trembling aeipathy. Tears began to burn at the corners of her eyes, unrelenting even as she attempted to blink them away, head throbbing, nerves shaking as woesome memories resurfaced.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as though the demonic light still festered inside of her, bringing her to her knees, wrenching, gnawing—

“Milkweed,” his lips pressed to her cheek, snapping her from her brief daze. He kissed away her tears, a hand pressing atop her abdomen, over lings that trembled with unbidden sobs, “Remain with me,” he beseeched. “In the present. Thou knowest that thou are safe, correct? None of the terrible fiends who have assailed you in moons passed can reach thou here.”

His attention wandered south a second time, mouth pressing kiss after kiss to her chest whilst a large hand perched on her hip.

“Mhm.” her breath hitched as his fingers inched inward, brushing against her moist cunt.

She inhaled deep, taking in the scent of old parchment and black tea. Adoration gleamed deep and thorough in his keen gaze. She swallowed, suddenly self-conscious under his analytical attention, thighs squirming and squeezing around his hand. Her eyes shut, lips parting around meek little cries.

“It’s alright,” he soothed, more kisses atop her breast, around a nipple. His thumb grated against her swollen clit, index finger curiously prodding her slick entrance. She realized, mortified, that she was much wetter than she’d first thought, left to flounder uselessly in a sea of pleasure. Broken waves threatened to tug her under.

In that instance, she realized she could perhaps not breathe without him. Her voice pitched into a high moan as the first finger slipped inside.

“Thou art not alone. Not Ascian nor Lightwarden will hurt you now.”

His rhapsodic reassurances were accompanied by the slow slide of his finger into her velvety depths, his palm coming to rest atop her folds. Only then did she shut her weary eyes.

Muscles once taut loosened into the sheets, her hips rolling into each thrust. Her breath poured from her lungs in the form of whines and cries, bouncing off the walls, nary a soul to hear.

“Urianger." she whimpered. His name a plea, a prayer.

He pried her orgasm from her with his fingers, pressed her to the mattress and stole her breath with the fervent passion of a thousand lovers. He worshipped her, adored her, gentled her from the tormented creature the light threatened to make her.

He learned her like a husband learned his wife.


	12. Ardbert / Sensory Deprivation

“You’re so handsome.” You whisper into Ardbert’s flushed skin, treasure the way his pectoral tenses under the brush of your warm breath. His hands curl into fists, tanned skin a steep contrast to the black ropes secured so lovingly around his wrists, pulled taut with his warrior’s strength. “If only you could see yourself.” you run the flat of your tongue over a perked nipple, teasing the other between your fingers.

His back arches, the hard planes of his muscle a sight to make your mouth water. He’s the very picture of debauchery, lips parted, cheeks red around moans and sighs, gifted with a necklace of blooming hickies over his sharp collarbones. A strand of black silk rests over his eyes.

“I love you.” Your fingers trace a path over the swell of his chest.

“I—goddamn—” He cuts himself off with a gasp as you give a particularly sharp pinch. “At least give me a moment to breathe,” he hisses.

“My apologies.” You drawl, withdrawing. It pains you to not have your hands all over him at every given moment, the visible tension that shows itself on his expression is well worth it. His eyebrows furrow together, the corners of his lips pulling down sharp. He’s already anticipating your next touch, craving the press of your tongue to his chest, the curl of your fingers around his already weeping cock.

It rests heavy and limp atop his pelvis, precum beading at the tip.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, so terribly endeared by each twitch, every subtle change in expression.

You dip your right knee a bit harder into the mattress to make it creak, and relish in the way his head immediately turns towards the sound.

You keep him in silent suspense, waiting for your attention with baited breath. He worries his swollen bottom lip, rolls his hips ever so slightly towards your clothed core. 

\- - -

He calls your name as he feels your weight vanish, pulse jumping with brief panic.

“I’ll be right there,” your voice is a soothing balm among the dark, just the sound enough to let him relax ever so slightly into the covers. “Just getting something.”

There’s the opening and closing of drawers, the sound of digging through belongings. His spine stiffens as he hears your footsteps venture closer, feels you climb back atop the bed. 

Your hand curls around the base of his cock, sending jitters of heat up his spine. He gasps, bucks his hips into your touch—

The head of something chilled, moist and plastic nestles against his bottom. Anticipation makes his stomach squirm sweetly, his thoughts an incomprehensible jumble among the pleasure and high strung need. 

“Lift your hips,” you murmur. The command both soothes and grounds him, his world reduced to your hands on his body and the toy he’s so eager to receive. “Good boy.” you purr as he obeys, sending another shiver down his spine. Oh yes, oh please, he’s such a good boy for you— 

A sudden rush of awareness makes him suddenly feel quite sheepish at just how much he appreciates your guidance.

The cool tip prods delicately at his entrance for a moment, before sliding inside, as smooth and easy as sin. He chokes on a gasp, moans and growls rumbling deep in his broad chest, pants rattling around in his lungs like the beating of a bird’s wings against the bars of its cage. He clenches around it, the world behind his eyes going white as it nudges his prostate, hits him where he needs it most.

His hips are already thrusting of their own accord, rod throbbing against your slicked palm and fingers as the tension that you’ve so cleverly stoked drives any and all thoughts out of his mind.

He damn near screams as the toy begins to vibrate, sensation after sensation promptly rendering him into a certifiable puddlem the blackness that’s cornered him at every angle giving him no reprieve, nothing else to focus on.

He lasts not a minute before he cums, spilling over his own stomach. The ropes sting as he yanks and yanks and yanks, mindless to anything but the orgasm that’s wracking his heavy frame. 

It’s over all too soon. He’s a panting mess, slumped into the silken sheets. His thighs twitch with the aftershocks of his release, legs resting limply against the mattress. 

The toy suddenly pulls out and he grimaces at the sudden chill the emptiness brings with it.

“...Are you alright?” your voice murmurs from above him. The mattress creaks and dips under your bent knees, letting him know you’re undoing the ropes.

“I’m fantastic.” he says with a breathless little laugh, hands collapsing at his sides. His wrists sting, but the pain is blotted out by the joy of the afterglow. Your fingers comb through his hair as you reach to undo the blindfold and he sighs in bliss, eyes shutting even as the fabric pulls away. The world behind his eyelids snaps bright, causing him to groan and throw an arm over his eyes. His arms reach out, twining around one of your thighs as you attempt to climb off the bed, his face pressing into your side. “Where are you going?”

“To get you something to drink.” Your fingers return to his hair and he croons with delight, reluctantly releasing you after a moment.

His eyes crack open in a narrow squint, gaze appreciatively lingering on your bare back as you head towards the door.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, so quiet you don’t hear, turning his head to press his face into the blankets. Boneless with bliss.


	13. Urianger / Body Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also on my tumblr, which can be found [here.](https://owlespresso.tumblr.com/) I have headcanon lists and other content that I don't usually post on my ao3! :)

“God, Urianger,” Milkweed circled him with all the predatory intent of a shark cornering its prey, “You look so… good,” in the back of her mind, she’s always known Urianger is an attractive man, ever since he revealed his face for the first time. 

However, he hasn’t sparked this kind of interest for her since he slipped back into those thick robes and atrocious sandals. Not that her feelings toward him solely hinge on what he happens to look like at any given moment, but there was never much time. Not when she was literal nations away and he still tucked away in the Waking Sands, lost among his sea of tomes and scrolls. 

But now, he’s here, right in front of her, and the draping robes he wears near expose his entire back.

“My thanks,” the corners of his lips curls into the smallest of smiles, tips of his ears turning red, “And my apologies for the mess. Had I anticipated thine arrival, I would have—” 

Her palm rests against the bare back of his shoulder, fingers kneading against the toned muscle.

It’s joined by the press of her cheek against the middle of his back, lips brushing delicately against the pale skin. There’s no hiding the shiver that rolls up his spine, the goosebumps that race along his skin. He’s warm to the touch, flesh and full and real, and she cannot help but be thoroughly enamored. 

“I missed you so much. Every day, I thought about you. I was just so worried.” she murmurs, hands reaching to press to his sides, giving a delicate squeeze, marveling in the swell of muscle underneath her fingers. He twitches, gasps, trembles, but leans back into her touch, resting on his heels, “And now you show up in this?”

Her touch slides to his chest, pointer fingers and thumbs pinching either nipple. The moan he lets out is sanguine.

“Milkweed,” he says her name in a breathy sigh,, fists curled at his side in a feeble attempt to control himself, “Full glad I am to see thou hasn’t lost thy wily spirit,” his back arches, thumbs tracing circles around his areola, “Perhaps—

Her fangs grate against the back of his neck.

The room passes by in a blur of dulled color, breath swept clean out of her lungs as she’s pinned to the floor. His robe wrinkles around his knee as it slots neatly between her thighs. His hair frames his face, mere decor to his frustrated, hungry expression.

“Well,” her lips curl into the smuggest of smiles, “This is a welcome surprise—”

He doesn’t permit another word, pressing his ravenous lips to her own, venting his starvation via action, painting her skin with bruises and kisses, the most saccharine of brushes.


	14. Hien / Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also on my tumblr, which can be found here: https://owlespresso.tumblr.com/   
> I have headcanon lists and other content that I don't usually post on my ao3! :)

“Forgive me,” Hien’s voice is a purr, not a plea. His hands settle slick against your thighs, clutching you like a precious treasure. The Doman heat settles heavy to your skin, your lack of clothes a blessing rather than a curse. “It’s been much too long since I’ve laid eyes upon you, love.” His face presses to your chest, feathering kisses over your soft skin. You feel each breath, sigh and moan as the tip of his cock nestles lovingly teases your slick folds.

“I suppose I can find it in me to forgive you,” you drawl playfully. As though you had been upset in the first place. Your busy schedules sometimes keep you apart more than you’d like, but it’s never his fault. 

The jade grass is soft against your knees.

You can feel his apprehension, can feel the tension in his arms as he keeps his tight grip on your thighs. He’s disciplined. He knows not to take unless he’s been given proper permission. 

The cool shade shields you from the harsh sunlight, which dapples patches of nearby foliage. The strands of deep green you’re seated upon tease your calves and feet.

His shoulders are warm and broad, abdomen caked with thick muscle.

“Do you forgive me enough to allow me entry? Or shall I wait for another week?” He tilts his head back, placing errant kisses over your jawline. He’s buttering you up, and it’s working. You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly dip down against his throbbing cock. 

Bastard that he is, he pointedly avoids your aching entrance, rubbing against your outer lips.

“Hien.” you grouse, thumping your forehead against his shoulder. One of your hands wanders south, fingers curling around his base, thumb rubbing over the very tip. He sighs loftily at your skilled ministrations, leaning back against the trunk.

Sunlight dapples through gaps in the branches, illuminating patches of sweat-slicked skin. The birds nestle in the branches and sing, reminding you of where you are. Taking part in such debauchery outside feels deliciously sinful, the finest of summer sake.


	15. ABO / Ardbert

Exhaustion weighed heavy on her mind and limbs, feverish fatigue drawing her thoughts into a numb, shapeless void. She buried her face into one of the cushions, nestled comfortable in the sea of blankets and shirts so lovingly prepared for the occasion. Even the colors were specifically to her liking, a tasteful and recherche assortment geared specifically for her comfort.

The mattress creaked and bounced underneath new weight, the familiar scent of your mate, your alpha, your Ardbert.

“How are you feeling?” his voice, convival and tender, was honey to her ears, sweet on her palette.

“Good,” she hummed softly, lifting her head from the cushion, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, dragging your gaze over the sharp angle of his jaw. “Not as shit as before, at least. Dunno how long that’s gonna last.” pre-heat was even more of a bitch than heat itself, in her humble opinion.

“We’ll deal with whatever comes out way when it happens. No sense in worrying about it getting worse when we don’t know if it will,” his warm hand gently rubbed her back, causing her to melt further into the sheets.

“I mean, I am gonna go into heat,” she grumbled, not at all pleased at the fact. Heat was a gallimoufry of hormones and arousal, of helplessness she had come to despise.

“It’ll be alright,” he murmured, mattress creaking as he inched closer, flopping beside her. His gaze was unbearably tender. He curled a strong arm around her and pulled her close, face squished into his broad chest, lovingly squeezed into a black cashmere sweater. “I’ll take care of you. You know tha, right? Let me know anything and everything you need.”

His voice rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re too sweet,” she nudged him onto his back, galvanized by his heavenly sweetness and a need to jolt herself from your sleep-dazed state.

“No. I’m just sweet enough,” he replied, pressing eager kisses over her jaw. A shudder rolled through her, eyes fluttering shut, face thumping against his broad pec.


	16. Estinien / Skimpy Glamors

“You,” there was pure venom in Estinien’s voice as he swept from some obscure shadow. One of his lean arms wraps around your middle, wedging you up against the wall. The cluster of knights and civilians paid no mind, too engrossed in the merriment, in the sobremesa of the now cozy tavern. His vibrant blues gleamed something fierce as they made a grand and obvious sweep down your body.

Your rather exposed body.

The glamor you had chosen flattered your chest, the curves and planes of your body. The color of your eyes, hair, skin rendering you a veritable feast for the eyes.

“Nice to see you too,” you offered a wry smile. One of your hands rested atop one of his broad pecs, giving a tentative squeeze.

Your boldness earned you a low growl. His fingers closed around your wrist in a vice grip.

“What in Halone’s name are you wearing?” his voice was an urgent little whisper.

“A new glamor,” you informed him curtly. His unoccupied unabashedly settled on her hip, the iron claws of his gauntlet providing a contrast to the room’s near suffocating heat. “Why? Don’t like it?”

“I like it as much as any other sensible man would,” the lips of his ears turned pink. It was a subtle change, no one privy to it other than you and you alone. The intensity that swam deep in his eyes betrayed his fascination. 

You knew the reason behind his little fit. Estinien had always been possessive, so much like the dragons he’d put to the steel. It was perfect irony, to witness him hoard what little he could stake claim to. He simply hated the idea of you being so susceptible, so exposed to the crowds wandering eyes.

“But you don’t want them to,” your arms wrapped around him, lips curling into the slightest of smirks. “Right?” one of your knees wedged in between his broad thighs, brushing ever so slightly against the growing tent in his trousers.

You found yourself tossed over his shoulder within a split second, footsteps thumping against the scuffed floorboards, the sound drowned out by raucous laughter.


	17. Asahi / Possessive

“I thought our meetings were a ‘mere, unfortunate habit’,” you raised an eyebrow at the figure in the doorframe, voice flat.

Moonlight reached through the window of the abandoned villa where you’d taken shelter, casting his pale flesh in bright silver. You’d go so far as to call him ethereal, beams granting his inky black locks a spritely glow. He stepped inside and gently shut the door behind him, pressing his back to it. His expression was equally perplexed and irate.

“They are,” he ground out, the words filtered through gritted teeth. His gloved hands curled into fists at his side, exposing his terrible mood. You didn’t know what he could be so cross about this time. Perhaps he’d lost an argument with another offer and still felt scorned? That guess was as good as any. 

You didn’t budge as he crossed the room in a few, deft strides, lounging back on the bed with a coy, questioning expression. He loomed over you, casting you in velvety shadow. His expression was carved with dissatisfaction and discomfort, a mixture of bewilderment and anger that left you just as puzzled.

“So? Why are you so upset? We’re not mutually exclusive. You’ve made it clear that you think I’m an unkempt beast or something. What’s it matter to you if I flirt with another savage ‘equal to my station’?” you haughtily imitate his voice with all the viciousness you can muster.

“Because,” he blustered, gaze darting from your face, down the stretch of your body, “Because I want your attention to be on me and only me! You can’t even begin to comprehend the disgust I feel when those filthy savages look at you so!” the sudden flurry of impassioned confessions made your eyes widen.

How did you begin to respond to that? You two fucked every now and then—occasionally worked alongside each other—even more often as of late. He’d sought you out more frequently as well, but even then you’d brushed it off as him valuing your talents. Your conversations hadn’t been nearly as antagonistic, but nothing that could have made you predict this! 

“They don’t deserve you,” he growled, mounting the bed in a blur of red and white. A knee wedged in between your thighs, a hand grasping the headboard tight.

“And what about me?” your lips twisted into a tight frown, “Am I ‘good enough’ for you? I don’t owe you anything, Asahi. Don’t pretend we’re anything other than fuck buddies, not after you’ve gone out of your way to make that clear. We’re nothing.”

“I’m well-aware,” a snarl boiled low in his throat, eyes aflame with torrid passion, “I—I believe I underestimated you. Everything about you. And I. I think a change in our relationship is warranted. Over the past months, I’ve come to… appreciate your company more than I anticipated. Much, much more so,” the words dragged uncomfortably from his throat. It took herculean effort for him to admit he was wrong, discomfort plain as day on his face. 

“So are you saying you want us to be intimate? Both emotionally and physically?”

“Yes,” he admitted, voice a desperate pant, “I know my treatment of you thus far has not exactly been… up to par. But I’ll do anything. Anything to ensure you’re mine.” 

Your hand snapped upwards, gripping the luxurious fabric of his jacket. He buckled, relenting as you pulled him down, a rare sight of submission.


	18. Rakuyo / Lactation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DarthSuki was generous enough to allow me to write for one of his characters, Rakuyo!! He's a raen au'ra.

“Welcome back!” 

From the moment the door opens, Rakuyo finds himself assaulted with immediate attention. Milkweed’s small hands curl into the collar of his kimono, beginning to pry it open with relentless greed. Mismatched eyes gleam as they peer up at him, her expression speaking of hunger, relentless desire that knocks the breath out of him. He can’t recall anyone ever being this… delighted to see him.

“Oh, Nhaama, just wait a moment—” Rakuyo chokes on his own breath, “I’ve only been gone an hour,” he stumbles, barely managing to slam the door shut behind him, fingers fumbling to twist the lock shut.

“An hour too long!” she insists, not even waiting until she reaches the bed to press her face to his chest, kissing and nipping at every patch of exposed skin she can reach. His nipples harden at the sudden chill, a shudder rolling up his spine.

He takes in a deep breath, savoring the sweep of fresh spring air into hs lungs, perfumed with burgeoning blooms. She’s left the window wide open. The realization makes him set his hands on her shoulders, prying her from his body as he marches over to shut it and close the curtains, simply to save the eyes and ears of their neighbors. 

“Pay attention to me,” not a moment passes until she’s pressed to his back, hands on his backside, squeezing impishly. 

“Of course. Heavens forbid I leave you to your own devices for a single moment,” he admonishes, but turns to wrap his arms around her anyways. Her tail is a blur of pink as it lashes back and forth, her pupils blown wide. “Shall we—”

He cuts himself off with a gasp as her lips curl around a perked nipple, little fangs brushing ever so slightly against his skin as she sucks. His spine arches, his fingers grip her bare shoulders, cheeks flush red as she’s rewarded with a drip of milk onto her tongue. Her other hand presses over his heart, her palm scraping over his neglected nipple.

The sudden stimulation is, needless to say, overwhelming. The arousal that comes with it nearly makes his knees buckle whilst mixed with the headiness of her scent. The pieces click together admist the arousal fogging up his thoughts.

“You’re going into heat,” he murmurs, drawing a hand to cup underneath her jaw, forcing her mouth open. Her lips are squished into a pout by his long fingers when she tilts her head to look up at him.

“Yeah, and?” she grumbles, gently shoving against his grip.

“You should have told me. I wouldn’t have left you alone,” the admonishing he gives is very light, but she grumbles regardless, scowling petulantly until he releases her. She lunges for his chest the moment she realizes her newfound freedom, a move he’d aniticipated. Her face meets blank air as he ducks out of the way, taking a moment to stride across the flat, to the bedroom.

There’s no need to look over his shoulder. Her footsteps already thud against the floor, a predator thrilled by the prospect of chase and reward. It’s impossible for her to outpace him, but he lets her once they’re near enough to the mattress. Her form bowls into his own with no semblance of grace, and the way he topples back onto it is pure indulgence. As though such a small creature could knock him off his feet otherwise.

“Finally!” she crows, triumph shining on her expression and in her eyes. The brief jog has jostled his kimono further open, exposing more of him to her greedy eyes. Her warm hands brush over his sides, thumbs pressing to the v-lines of his hips whilst her lips kiss above his bellybutton.

He sighs. Dark eyelashes flutter shut as she trails kisses up his torso, twitching and sighing and savoring the idle worship. She’s not as thorough as she usually would be, hurrying to once again wrap her lips around a nipple and suck.

Like this, he thinks she’s the cutest. His eyes open to the sight of her blissful expression, eyes shut, ears tilted back as purrs rumble from deep in her chest. They twitch every now and then, those furry little appendages he’s so fascinated with. One of his hands wraps around her shoulders, the other running through her hair, curiously caressing it—accidentally gripping it when her tongue curls around his swollen nipple in a way he can only describe as obscene. 

He near shouts, hips jerking off the mattress, unwittingly rolling into her. Her tiny fangs grate against his skin a bit harder as she moans, suckling hungrily. She grows rougher with each passing moment, beginning to knead his swollen chest, sending waves of arousal down to his achingly hard cock. 

There’s no way to disguise his reactions. This is the one place where he can be read like a book, the tells of his body reflecting his desire for that slight pain, those crude touches.

She won’t stop until she drinks him dry, he knows from firsthand experience. But when her knee grinds so beautifully against his clothed cock, he can’t quite bring himself to complain.


	19. Zenos / Wearing His Clothes

“What is this?” Zenos’s voice drawls, slow and unimpressed. He damn near scares the life out of you, too caught up in the intricate ties of his chest plate to hear him coming.

But fuck, he wasn’t supposed to be back yet! Upon hearing he was to reclaim the royal palace, you had decided now was a better time than ever to fiddle with some of his belongings. His expansive collection of swords is too precious to fiddle with, lest you damage one and earn his ire. His clothes, however, are fair game. You had only shrugged on his white jacket by the time he returns. He cuts a powerful silhouette against the doorway, eyeing you with a raised brow, home days before you expected him.

“I, uh,” you stammer as your cheeks flood with scorching warmth. “Just wanted to see how they’d look on me.”

He strides into the room, reaching you in three, long steps. Long fingers curl around your wrist and lift it, sliding down to grip the sleeve by the cuff, your arm held limp inside.

“To think, you would miss me enough to don my royal attire.” The corners of his lips spread into a sly smile, eyelids lowering, sultry. “How endearing.” 

His arm curls around your shoulders and he pulls you into the broad stretch of his body. The chest plate, previously held up by your free hand, crashes to the ground with a deafening clatter. You gasp a quiet curse as you stumble over your own boots, pressed suddenly to him. Not an ilm of space remains between your bodies, allowing you to feel the full bulk of him. He’d disrobed whatever armor he wore to retake the palace, now clad in only a loose-fitting shirt and dark pants.

“Can you just forget you saw this?” you inquire with no real hope. He radiates warmth, envelopes you in a way that near instantly makes you sweat. The large hand settled on your shoulder shifts downwards, palm pressed to the small of your back. The heat reaches you through the fabric of your shirt, his efforts rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

“Why would I? It isn’t everyday that my beast deigns to show me such affection.” His fingers grace your chin and force you to look into hungry eyes. His pupils have expanded, a wide inky void that presses the vivid blue of his irises into a thin ring.

“You’re into this sorta thing?” You suppose it isn’t surprising. Despite his unfortunate penchant for calling others “beasts”, he’s just as possessive as any so-called savage. A man, just like any other in terms of carnal instinct. No doubt he views this as some sort of “marking”, akin to a collar or nametag. And the fact that you donned the jacket of your own accord…? A practical surrender to ownership.

“It flatters you,” he replies, and his hand ventures further south, cupping a cheek through the soft fabric of your pants. It jolts you, making you gasp. “...I think you deserve a reward for so obediently expressing your true feelings for me. Come. Let me treat you.”

His hand leaves your body, but ventures to your wrist, curling around the joint with infuriating ease. There exists a new spring in his step as he tugs you from the room, in a direction you know leads to his bedchambers. Your cunt throbs in anticipation, body warming with the knowledge of what he’s about to do to you.


	20. Zenos / Pulling an All Nighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are still four missing that I believe I posted on tumblr, but I'm not quite satisfied with them anymore. I think this'll be the last one I post here.

“Hey!” your lips curled back into a vicious snarl as your tome was snatched straight from your hands, left with only a pen clutched firm in your fingers. Your eyebrows furrowed into the deepest of scowls, irises caged between thick brows and heavy, dark bags.

“You’ve not retired yet,” Zenos’s unamused voice rumbled deep in your ear.

“I’m busy,” you said with an aggravated sigh, hot irritation rocketing flush up your spine. Who was he to scold you like a bothersome child? You were the Warrior of Light! Nolt some weak pathetic maid he could bully and herd like a cow. “What do you want?”

Whilst he usually enjoyed her inner fire, it only seemed to irritate him now. A massive hand curled around your fist, which loosened near automatically in his grasp, the heavy press of his chest to your back made your cheeks warm, blood pushing harder and faster as your heart’s rhythm pulsed and sped. The warmth that swarmed her cheeks grew unbearable as their fingers laced together, stark difference in size taking front and center.

“For you to be a good girl and go to bed on time.”

You squeaked as your chair was suddenly wrenched backwards, away from her beloved desk. There was not a moment to regain her bearings before your chair was whirled around, Zenos caging you in. Up so close, you could fully admire the vibrant blues of his eyes, peek unsubtly at the opening of his robe. The fabric hung loosely from his broad shoulders, giving you a prime view of his thick pectorals and the slip of his nipple.

“Well,” you swallowed. His frown disappeared, plump lips curving into a smug smile. He knew he had her, a fly caught in the gaping maw of a venus fly trap. “I suppose I can be persuaded.”


End file.
